


A Study of Fauves in Blue

by WhittyOne



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Unrelated (2007)
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhittyOne/pseuds/WhittyOne





	1. Chapter 1

It was an excuse to wear her new dress.

She’d never liked the taste of beer, and resented the price of the mixed liquor drinks she enjoyed. But she hadn’t seen Tessa and Jill since the start of winter break, and she needed to let the first layer of her abstract dry before picking up her brush again anyway. So she stepped into the shower to wash the brightly colored oils from her fingers before shimmying into the soft, inviting silk. Sleeveless with an enticing v-neckline, the ebony fabric flowed just above her knees, lovely contrast to her pale skin.

She twisted the royal blue locks at her temples into tight fishbones, cinching them with elastic before fluffing the rest of her raven locks into an untidy corona about her neck and shoulders. Wings of kohl at the corner of each eye and a swipe of scarlet over her lips, and she blew her reflection a playful kiss before switching off the light.

Most girls who bump their head at five feet would opt for the four inch heels at the back of her closet, but she was in the mood to dance. She toed her way into a pair of strappy kitten heels instead, passing an affectionate fingertip over the starry night swirl that decorated the inside of her left ankle. A chipper honk from outside sent her scurrying to her front door, shivering a bit beneath the early February breeze as she slid into the back of the cab.

“London Taphouse, please…”

The bass was throbbing when her friends pulled her out on the floor, and it was bliss. Arms raised to the ceiling, hair flipping from side to side, perfumed sweat filling the air as hips swayed and twisted and dipped to the rhythm. Lemon drops, sugary sour, and sips of icy cold water in between, conversation shouted over DJ-punctuated hip-hop, laughter and hugs shared among their student melting pot.

It lasted longer than she expected; the cut, casual bodies of a half-dozen Oxford lads didn’t sidle smoothly into their midst until after eleven. Tessa was always the primary objective: tall, tan, a flowing mane of amber waves above a landscape of soft curves and inviting planes. Jill and Harper almost always went next, their football-toned figures and easy laughter drawing masculine attention like summer moths to flame. And Greta was never one to be ignored, twining her arms through the elbows of two burly boys who sipped their lagers in tandem before leaning in to listen to her light-hearted prattle.

But something was different tonight. Her ladies, the ambassadors who had kindly helped a green girl from Broken Bow settle into British university life with all proper pomp and circumstance, weren’t exactly focused on their potential partners. They were all sneaking longing little looks at someone else, someone long and lean, crowned with golden curls and blessed with crystal blue eyes and a just-cocky-enough smile.

And he was looking at her.

She met his gaze, cool and even, unprepared (and, more importantly, unwilling) to simper or seduce. And yet her heart thumped queerly in her chest as he began to make his way closer, shuffling through the sea of bodies with effortless grace. She offered him a thin smile when he stopped in front of her, towering above her. He opened his posture, swiveling in wordless cadence with her movement as the music pumped around them. She accepted his outstretched hand, let him twirl her beneath his arm, but refused to giggle girlishly at the skill he displayed bringing her back to center.

If her disinterest bothered him, he concealed it well. “Oakley,” he shouted above the din.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling goosebumps ripple briefly over her flesh. “Avery.”

A flash of white teeth. “Avery. I like that.”

“I’m Harper!” the willowy redhead trilled, bumping her hip into Avery’s with overt expectation as the smaller girl stepped aside agreeably enough. “You can move!”

“So can you,” the young man quipped, bending his knees and rolling his body into his new dance partner’s orbit.

Pressure off, Avery closed her eyes and surrendered to the music as one song bled into the next, and into the next. And as she shifted and shuffled on the tide of strangers, the young Adonis in rumpled Ralph Lauren drifted around her, sharing space with this pretty girl, that one, yet another one. But every time he caught her eye, his irises seemed to flash warm blue fire, his lips curling in a spontaneous, confident grin. She’d return it as best she could before averting her gaze, only to catch herself looking back seconds later. Waiting for those moments when his arms would rise above his head, pulling the hem of his button-down just high enough to offer a glimpse of his well-toned obliques, to allow a peek at his deliciously flirty navel.

He’d just dropped his hands to Tessa’s hips when Avery, confident that their visual sparring had come to an end, abandoned the groove mid shimmy, pushing her hair back from her face as she excused her way from the dance floor. She slotted into a spot at the mahogany bar among the other patrons anchored there, and the boisterous bartender dropped her a brisk wink.

“Lemon drop, right, love?”

She shook her head politely. “Just water this time, please.”

The condensation was cool against her forehead, and she shivered briefly before tilting the plastic bottle at her lips. One chilly swallow, then another, and then a large, warm hand caressed the skin exposed by the diamond cutout at the small of her back, a long, lean torso pressed against her side. She turned her eyes up slowly, nervous.

He wasn’t looking at her at all, was instead waving a bill at the bartender and barking out his order. He never saw the way her blood fled her cheeks, the way her teeth sank into her bottom lip for the briefest instant. By the time he had taken the longneck in his free hand and turned his focus to her face once more, her color had returned, and she was again wearing her politely aloof smile. He took a generous swig from his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before gesturing back to the throng of bodies still moving a few feet away.

“You heading back out there?” he asked, his voice rising heartily over the din.

Avery shook her head as she took a swallow from her own bottle. “No, I think I’m good for a bit.”

“Me, too,” Oakley grinned, sliding a hand down her arm and linking his fingers through hers. “Come on.”

She managed to keep her feet under her as he tugged her along, slowing here and there to shout a greeting to another boy or to quirk a playful wink to the doe-eyed girls that watched as they glided past. One or two called him by name, dropping their chins to their chests and twirling strands of sweat-dampened hair around their fingers; he actually paused to peck a kiss to the cheek of one blonde beauty with a heavy Tuscan accent.

His grip on Avery’s hand never slackened, however, and after only a few more carefully coordinated steps, the cool caress of the evening breeze pushed her bangs back from her forehead, making her sigh in bewildered relief.

A couple dozen tables scattered over the patio in front of them, only a third of them occupied. The glowing chrome heaters hummed between them, silently beating back the late winter chill; Oakley led her to a corner chair beside one of them, waiting until she’d settled with one leg crossed over the other before sinking down next to her. He took another sip of beer before placing the bottle on an abandoned coaster, then leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sniff.

Avery let her gaze wander his form from top to bottom with comfortable curiosity – he’d pursued her, after all, nothing wrong with sizing up the young man who’d dragged her into his company. The caramel colored curls atop his head danced subtly on the shifting air, and his dimples made a brief appearance when he realized he was under inspection. His cerulean eyes crinkled at the corners as he straightened a bit, squaring his broad shoulders above his narrow hips and smoothing his large palms over his denim-covered thighs. He was handsome, almost annoyingly so, and the cock of his head and wide-set sprawl of his legs said he knew it.

Not at all her type.

He bore her silent scrutiny with ease, at last chuffing a quiet chuckle before pulling a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. “You run with a fun group,” he mused as he tapped one free, offering it to her without pretense, then tucking it into the corner of his mouth when she shook her head. “Most girls come here to be seen or to dance; not many come willing to actually do both.”

“They’re great girls,” Avery agreed over the snap of his lighter.

Oakley’s eyebrows raised a bit as he inhaled deeply. “You’re American,” he shifted again in his chair, blowing a plume of smoke into the darkness over his shoulder. “Cool. The university crowd can be so boring.”

“Well, don’t go getting your hopes too high there,” Avery sighed. “By U.S. standards, midwest Nebraska is the definition of dull, so…”

His tongue played briefly at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. But something tells me,” he let his stare flicker ever so quickly down her figure before returning to hers, “you couldn’t be boring if you tried.”

“Oh, there’s a good line for you,” a tiny laugh spilled from Avery’s lips before she could stop it, and she folded her hands tightly on one knee before her reflexes could turn traitor and lift one to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Eh,” Oakley shrugged, unaffected by the light accusation in her tone. “You know what makes a good line a good line?” His eyes bore into hers as he took another drag from his cigarette. “When it’s the truth.”

A surge of heat radiated through Avery’s chest; she could feel it flushing her cheeks, and she reached for her water to take a stabilizing sip. He held her over the flame a heartbeat longer as he exhaled another cloud to the sky, then lightened his voice once more.

“So… second year, yeah?”

She let him talk on a moment, maybe five, maybe ten, hearing his words without really listening and pondering the queer, bubbling uncertainty that tickled at the base of her skull. He wasn’t trying hard, certainly not compared to some of the suitors in her past. Unbalanced, she continued to find herself drawn in by his unapologetic arrogance, his easy self-assurance, his sensual little smirk. But then he’d pause for a breath or a drink, his eyes passing down her body in a leisurely caress, and her inner resolve to stay away would rear its head once more, hissing from deep inside her brain…

_He’s trouble and you know it…_

“Look,” she interrupted as politely as she could, “Oakley, right?” He nodded, taking another sip as she uncrossed her legs and straightened her back. “This is… all… really cute. And you’re cute, and you’re funny, and I do love the accent,” she sucked in fresh air as his grin returned with a vengeance, “but I really need to tell you…”

“Tell me anything,” he invited, spinning his bottle against the tabletop.

Avery exhaled a weary “ugh,” leaning forward a little against the arms of the chair to tamp down the traitorous pull deep behind her navel that sprung to life at the silky sound of his chuckle. “I know what you’re doing, okay? And it’s flattering, it really is.” She set her lips in a tight, no-nonsense line. “But you can stop now. I’m afraid it’s just not going to work.”

“Wait,” Oakley blanched a little, holding out an open palm as her chair scraped back. “What’s not going to work? What, exactly, do you think I’m doing?”

“Look,” Avery pushed her hair back from her forehead in mild exasperation as she stood, “I know it’s not as much of a thrill to go after the ones who are clearly into you, the ones who play along, the ones who throw themselves at you. I know you probably think it’s more fun, more of a challenge, to try and charm your way along with the ones who just aren’t interested…”

“Okay,” he laughed suddenly, throwing up both hands in conciliatory surrender. “Hang on, hang on, just one second, okay?” His face was openly boyish, almost innocent, as he looked up at her. “Sit down, please. Just a moment longer…”

“Oakley,” Avery could hear a tinny whine in her voice and shuddered at the sound. “I really don’t feel like playing games…”

“Okay!” He clasped his hands and dropped them between his knees. “No games. How about some balls-out, brutal honesty?”

Intrigued, Avery cocked her head to one side. “Honesty?” She chewed her lips in thought. “You sure that’s not a game in and of itself?”

“No games,” Oakley reassured her with a shake of his curls. “Just the truth.” He quirked his chin at the chair she’d abandoned. “Please.” Narrowing her eyes and regarding him with suspicion down the line of her nose, she sank down slowly, scooting as far back as she could when he grasped the frame and pulled it closer.

“Oakley…”

His hands raised once more, then settled back into his own seat. “Right,” he grinned. “Truth and honesty. Well,” he plucked his waning cigarette from the ashtray and took another drag, “not at all trying to charm you here,” he flashed his rakish grin. “The truth is that I think you are fucking gorgeous. Easily one of the prettiest girls out here tonight. You just… kept… catching my eye.”

Avery lifted her chin, refusing to break beneath his gaze, even as she felt her blood rising to warm her throat, her cheeks, burning to the roots of her hair.

“But it’s difficult to look at you.”

Her jaw unhinged, and she squirmed a little. “Oh is it?”

“It is,” Oakley nodded, flicking glowing embers to the ground. “Because every time I look at you, it makes my cock hard as iron.” Drawing in one final inhale, he stubbed the butt while breathing silver grey plumes into the air between them. “Now, what I’d like to know is this,” he leaned closer, his fingers dusting lightly over the bare skin of her calf. “Does looking at me make you wet?”

Avery sat stock still, frozen in shock, fighting the urge to straighten her dress, refusing to pass her tongue over her suddenly too dry lips. But as she watched the black of his pupils dilate in amused interest, she realized it didn’t matter – he was already reading the answer that was written all over her face.

“Oakley…”

“Because, you see,” his fingers tickled their way up to her knee, “I can’t help but think... if I’m hard…” his fingertips nudged their way under the hem of her skirt, “and you’re wet…”

Feeling as if she were moving through molasses, Avery closed her hand over his. “How…” her voice cracked slightly, and she dropped her gaze briefly as she cleared her throat. “How do I know this isn’t just some stupid reckless pick-up line?”

His velvety chuckle rippled through her, making every hair stand on end, and the blood that had filled her face all at once rushed for parts southern.

“What makes a line a good line, Avery?” he murmured softly, pulling her closer, guiding her palm to press against the terrain beneath his fly. “When it’s the truth.”

And true it was. The muscle beneath her touch was solid, scorching, twitching subtly as her thumb stroked instinctively along its curve. She pressed her thighs together in an attempt to quell the urgent, clenching tingle radiating from deep inside her gut, gasping softly as his hips rolled just a hint, sliding his impressive length through her grasp. The sound and sensible voice inside her mind railed at her, screeching that she should yank her arm away, push herself to her feet and flounce towards the exit. But the heat of his gaze, the citrus and hop scent of his breath, and the inviting bow of his lips held her fast, rooted as she sat in front of him.

“Nice,” Oakley breathed, his hand returning to the bare skin below the silk of her skirt. “My turn.”

His jaw clenched a bit when her fingers tightened reflexively around him as his own began their slow but steady trek north, but his stare never broke from hers. His eyes were cool and clear as he moved, higher and higher, traversing the top of her leg before dipping down into the soft, secret valley between it and its twin. Avery swallowed against a mewling whimper as he teased his long middle digit against the thin strip of silk that covered her, his expression warming in predatory triumph.

“Soaked.”

The two hovered for a long moment, each with one hand on the other, neither willing to flinch and pull away first. The night moved on around them, oblivious to their sensual standoff, the gusts of breeze and the white noise of the other revelers muffling the pounding of her own pulse in her ears. She swallowed hard against the gravel that had collected in her throat, cut her eyes quickly to the side to make certain the few other patrons who shared the patio were sufficiently engrossed in their own conversations.

“And you think that’s because of you, hmm?”

His grin widened as he pressed against her just a bit harder. “I don’t see anybody else here.”

In that heartbeat, Avery saw him with crystal clarity, the pieces of his personality coming together before her eyes with an almost audible click. No mystery to this one, not even a little. He wasn’t looking for a soulmate, a sweetheart, he was barely even attempting a respectable seduction. Unapologetically aroused, obviously accustomed to getting what he wanted. And what he wanted tonight, it seemed, was her. A hundred haughty refusals assembled along her tongue as she drew in breath.

“So… now what?”

Oakley laughed gently, pushing into her palm as he moved his body forward in his chair. “Well,” he murmured, velvety smooth, “I can stop, if you like.” He leaned over, bringing his face mere inches from hers. “Or…”

Avery inhaled sharply, a distinctly feminine sound, as his fingers curled, finding the edge of her panties and slipping easily under them. “Oakley…”

He paused in his exploration, his blue eyes holding fast to hers. “Do you want me to stop?”

He would, too, with just one word; she believed that whole-hearted. There would be no coy back and forth of “Are you sure?” No lingering gazes of guilt-inducing puppy dog longing, no righteous indignation at her rejection. He’d pull his hand away, give her a moment to collect herself, escort her back inside. Maybe he’d buy her a no-hard-feelings drink, maybe he’d even take another spin around the floor with her. What he wouldn’t do, she was certain, was try to coax her in again. He’d watch to see which of the fairer sex would drift back into his orbit, make another selection, and move on without a backward glance.

 _Let him go…_ her brain whispered solidly.

“No,” she said aloud, her voice quiet but clear.

He nodded silently, the victory in his smile not feeling at all at her expense. She let her eyes slide shut as he lay his forehead against hers, twisting his wrist and nudging a fingertip lower, lower still, and delicious vertigo overwhelmed her as he breached her entrance with cautious care.

“There you are…”

Avery couldn’t help but nod against him, opening her legs a little to allow him better access. _This is going to be embarrassingly easy_ , she thought to herself, only vaguely remembering her last sweltering summer at home, the awkwardly endearing goodbye she’d shared with the boy who’d walked the halls with her that long, final year of high school. The memory of his clumsy, fumbling caresses flew from her mind as Oakley’s touch moved with purpose and precision, finding and fondling that spot inside her that no one, save herself, had ever found before.

“Oakley, this… I…”

“Shhh, Avery, it’s all right,” his words whispered over her brow, his free hand stroking tenderly over her back, “let me make you come.”

The word exploded in her brain like a landmine, jerking her posture straight as her head twisted to steal another furtive glance at the customers still seated mere yards away from their quiet little corner.

“ _Oakley!”_

The gentle rubbing inside her continued undeterred, the hand on her spine slid up to steady her at the back of her neck. “Nobody’s looking, Avery,” he murmured into her hair. “Nobody cares. It’s just you and me here… let me make you come…” His fingers curled within her, a beckoning come-hither, and her head fell back on her neck, her pale blue eyes locking with the cerulean depths of his. “That’s it. Good girl. Just relax… let me…” The heel of his hand came to rest against the swell of her forgotten clitoris, and the little bud awoke with a vengeance, its aching throb making her moan deep in her throat. “Shh…”

“Oakley… wait… this… oh, God…”

“Almost there, Avery,” he rasped into her ear. “I can feel it. Just relax. Let go. Let go… and come all over my fingers…”

“Oakley… oh… _God_ …”

Every muscle below her navel began to quiver and clench in rhythmic release, and as her lips parted on a breathy little cry, he covered them with his own, swallowing her sobs in one long, lingering kiss.

She’d forgotten about her own hand in his lap until he released her neck to take her wrist, tugging her loose as she continued to tremble, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. “Mercy please, beautiful girl,” he chuckled, slipping his fingers from inside her and smoothing her panties back into place.

“Sorry,” Avery giggled breathlessly, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her own arousal as he lifted her chin, stole a few more nibbling kisses from her lips. His eyes drank in the sight of her, his mouth curled in a smug smile of satisfaction, and she found herself blushing once again. “What?”

Oakley shrugged. “I knew it.”

A tickle of indignant humility wormed its way through her gut, and she stiffened a bit in his embrace. “Knew what?”

“As much as you’re prettier than all those girls in there,” he grinned, “you’re even more gorgeous like this.”

Their foreheads came together once more as they shared a quiet laugh, and then he was rising, adjusting the sizeable bulge in the front of his jeans before offering her his arm. She wobbled a bit as she stood, shivering at the warmth of the hand he placed on her shoulder to help her balance. She straightened her skirt, fluffed her fingers through her hair.

“So…”

Oakley chortled under his breath, draining the last of the beer from his bottle. “So?”

Avery shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking up at him in naked honesty. “I don’t know what happens now.”

“Oh,” he flashed what she was now certain was his signature smirk, the camber of his mouth full of sass and self-assurance. “You can choose. The DJ will be spinning in there at least another hour; I can take you back to your friends and watch you move that perfect body until you’re ready to drop. Or,” he gestured to a lot parallel to the front of the building, “my car is right over there. If you don’t mind giving directions, I can drive you home, make sure you get there safe and sound.”

As she stood looking up into his cocky blue eyes, she realized she didn’t want to do either of those things. She also realized that, whether she liked it or not, he knew it.

“Well,” she purred after a heartbeat of silence, “Oakley… what if I don’t feel like dancing,” she took a step closer to him, letting the soft curve of one hip graze feather-light against the hard plane of his abdomen, “but I don’t feel like going home yet, either?”

The white of his teeth was dazzling as he slipped an arm around her. “If that is in fact the case, Avery, we could always go back to my place.” He leaned close, murmuring huskily into her ear, “I’d love to spend all night fucking you – any way and every way you’d like.” His mouth grazed its way over her earlobe, down to the sensitive skin beneath, and Avery felt her arm moving of its own accord, winding around his lean waist so she could mold the curve of her body to his.

“All right, Oakley,” her chin grazed his cheek as he nibbled at her neck. “In the spirit of honesty here,” her eyes met his as he lifted his face in inquiry, “I’d love to see your place.”

She was expecting something extravagant, sporty and flashy and ridiculously overpriced. So she found herself surprised and delighted when he instead escorted her to an old cream-colored 20v Audi, holding the door with a gallant flourish to allow her to slip inside. They were barely out of the parking lot before his hand was on her thigh once more, stroking possessively, his palm edging the hem of her skirt up as the vehicle prowled through the settling evening fog.

“Hope it’s comfortable,” he quipped, nonchalant, “it’s a bit of a drive.” He cut his eyes sideways, smiling indulgently, and Avery felt an unexpected surge of mischievous desire prickle beneath her skin.

_Somebody wants to play? All right, pretty boy… I’m game._

With a lilting sigh, she let her head fall back against the headrest, her hand fumbling along the panel beneath her seat. She found the little lever easily enough, and with a brisk twist, her seat reclined, allowing her to stretch and arch her tiny, slender frame as far as it would go. She toed her shoes off with casual grace, lifting her feet to the dashboard and crossing them at the ankle, gifting him with the sight of her manicured toes and the Van Gogh tattoo she adored. His hand stayed where it was, didn’t even twitch, but his tongue darted out ever so briefly to tease its way over his lips. Giggling to herself, Avery began to trace her fingertips along the dip of her neckline, lifting the silk that covered her breasts to offer him a glimpse of the black eyelash lace that held them in place.

Oakley chuckled, delighted. “Naughty little tease,” he scolded. “How do you expect me to drive with you spread out there like that?”

She shrugged, sliding one leg along the other just enough to flare her skirt invitingly above the dip between them.

“I don’t.”

He paused only a moment before cutting the wheel to the side, easing the car to park she’d no clue where. He was opening his mouth to speak as she pushed herself up and over the console between them, straddling his lap and pinning him in his seat with one knee beside each hip. Her fingers curled into greedy claws in his hair as she pushed her tongue between his lips, and their moans mingled in the air as he grabbed her ass beneath her dress. She pressed her weight down, rolling the damp seam of her body against the swollen ridge straining his zipper.

“Fuck,” he muttered into her mouth, and as his hands clutched at her, the interior of the car suddenly filled with the muted purr of parting silk. Avery’s breath hitched in surprise, and she squealed as he lifted her easily, gaining the space he needed to pull her ruined panties from her body and drop them to the floorboards. “Better?” he grinned up into her eyes as he pressed the rough denim of his fly into her wet, naked flesh. It sent sparks of illicit enjoyment skittering up her spine, and she arched, nodding wordless agreement at the ceiling.

He kissed her again, hot and hungry, and she writhed agreeably in his arms, grinding against him as he explored her, the swells of her buttocks and hips, the angles of her back and shoulder blades, the wild, feathery locks of her hair. His playful tug at her scalp took her breath away and she broke her mouth from his, dragging air into her lungs as he nibbled his way along her jaw.

Her hands left his curls to slide down the broad expanse of his shoulders, over the rising bellows of his chest. He chuckled at her fumbling as she scrabbled open one button, then the next, flattening her palms against the heat of his skin and pushing the linen of his shirt aside. She traced her short nails over his dark nipples until they stood at attention, shuddering beneath the hot air he exhaled across her throat. Lower still, she twirled a fingertip around the cup of his navel, and he growled encouragement as the soft golden strands that descended below tickled against her touch.

“Don’t stop there, gorgeous…”

She giggled against his temple, tipsy on power, biting at the tongue he slipped into her mouth. He groaned approval into the kiss as she unbuckled his belt, lifted his pelvis to make prying open the button and tugging down the zipper that much easier. And then, there he was, filling her palm; silky smooth skin stretched impossibly taut over hard, throbbing muscle. She closed her hand around him, gave him one long languid tug from root to crown, smiling at the sensation of his excitement leaking out over her thumb.

“Oh, God,” his voice rasped irresistibly in his throat, “Avery…”

The sound of her name in that frantic, famished tone immobilized her, hovering above him with her breath caught behind her teeth, her heart still within the cage of her chest.

“Avery?” Oakley’s brow was furrowed, his eyes swirling dark as they searched hers.

“I…” she swallowed dryly, her body aching for him, her hand frozen on his shaft. “I….”

“Shhhh,” he soothed, an air of understanding settling over his features as his hands caressed their way over her hips. “It’s all right…”

The tip of his tongue danced gently over the curve of her parted lips as he shifted beneath her, guiding, nudging. The fingers that held him brushed against her own wet, wanting cleft, and he swallowed her mewl of surrender as he lowered her, tight and trembling, onto his cock. Her hands fluttered up to grab the back of his neck, her nails pressing faint half-moons into his skin as the feeling of being stretched and filled to her very limit overwhelmed her. As her weight came to rest on his lap, his eyes opened, full of sensually satisfied light.

“Fucking perfect…”

She held his gaze as she caught her breath, centered herself. Then, once he saw the tension melt from the furrows in her brow, watched her teeth release their hold on her lower lip, he rolled beneath her, drawing his length back before sliding home once again, his grip on her hips directing her to rock in tandem. Languid little bumps and grinds, until her walls adjusted to his invasion and the fluids of her arousal were flowing easily once more.

He slid his grasp higher, closing his fingers around the swells of her breasts, thumbing their peaks to bullet points beneath the lacy cups of her bra. She bowed her back in pleasure, grinding the apex of her pubic bone against his stomach as he pulled aside the lapels of her dress before moving to flip open the tiny rhinestone clasp nestled in her cleavage. The lingerie slithered aside, exposing her skin to the cool of the air, the warmth of his hands, and she purred in delight as he pushed her modest curves together, exhaling moist heat over her nipples before tugging first one and then the other with his lips.

“Jesus, Avery… _so_ fucking perfect…”

“Oakley,” she tangled her fingers in the gossamer of his curls, pushing more and more of her sensitive flesh into his mouth, writhing against his cock to soothe the tug his suckling stirred deep within her. “Oh… God, Oakley…”

“Oooh, that’s it, gorgeous,” he nipped at one sideswell with his teeth, bucking his hips up to meet her grinding. “Fuck me. Just like that.”

“Ohhh,” Avery tugged at his scalp as his tongue flickered over one taut, swollen bud. “Oakley… please… so good.”

His hands slipped down the expanse of her back, yanking her skirt up to grope along the bare skin of her ass. He pulled her closer as he sucked her left nipple a deep, ruddy scarlet, his mouth breaking from her only when a particularly deep swivel of her hips forced him against the barrier inside her, making her muscles tighten around him.

“Avery… _shit_ … don’t fucking stop! Come on, fuck me with that tight little cunt.”

“Oakley,” she giggled, nuzzling the tip of her nose against his cheek as she undulated her body, over and over.

“That’s it, baby,” he chuckled as well, “that’s a good girl. Come on. Are you gonna come for me again?”

“Oh, Oakley,” she kissed him hungrily until his fist in her hair pulled her head back once more.

“You are, aren’t you gorgeous? You’re gonna grind that sweet little cunt on my cock until you come all over me, aren’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, her breath huffing over his forehead in ragged little pants.

“Oh yeah,” he tightened his grip as the fingers of his free hand pulled and plucked at her bouncing breasts. “There’s my girl. Fuck me, Avery. Jesus, baby, you feel _so_ good. Come on… come for me. I want to watch… I want to _feel_ it… Avery… oh, _fuck_!”

“Oakley,” Avery’s voice took on a husky, lyrical edge as her head fell back, but he lifted her face back up to his, his stare boring into hers as he thrust up into her.

“I said I want to watch,” he growled, biting impishly at her bottom lip.

“Oakley…”

“Shhh, Avery,” he kissed her, long, deep sweeps of his tongue filling her mouth with the flavors of rich lager and expensive tobacco. “Let go. Move that gorgeous body. Fuck me,” he urged, rumbling low in his throat. He waited for the hazy clouds in her eyes to part before releasing her breast, lifting his fingers and licking them before reaching down to toy with the swollen, slippery nub of her clit. “ _Come for me_ …”

“Oh… Oakley… _fuuuuuuck_ …”

Her body bowed in an exquisite arc as her climax exploded through her, electric waves of silvery sensation radiating from the pit of molten heat at her core, set sparking by the push of his cock, the dance of his fingertips. She gasped as she watched his eyes darken and dilate, his jaw clenching at the feeling of her tightening around him.

“Ohh, yes, gorgeous… come on, come on, come… _come…”_

The surges crashing within her had just begun to subside when Oakley shifted her above him, pulling his cock from inside her before pressing the thick, throbbing underside of his shaft against the seam between her legs. Realizing his intent, Avery moaned sweetly, kissing him frantically as she began to rut against him.

“Oh, Avery,” he hissed between gritted teeth, “you gonna get me there, gorgeous?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, tasting the corner of his mouth, the angle of his jaw, the pounding of his pulse in his throat, sliding her slick, wet folds over him.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Oakley grinned, pulling her skirt aside so he could watch her work her body over him. “That’s my girl. Ride me, Avery… just like that… almost there. Avery… Avery… oh _fuck,_ baby! Make me come! Grind on my cock and make me… oh… ohhhh… _Christ!_ ” His body bucked beneath her, hard jerks of his pelvis that lifted them both as thick streams of white spurted from his flushed and straining head. They streaked the sweat-glistened planes of his abdomen between the open lapels of his shirt, catching the moonlight as he slumped back against the headrest, pulling her with him and crashing her mouth into his for a greedy, breathless kiss.

The two huddled together in the front seat of his car, laughing softly as their racing hearts slowed, as their ragged respirations quieted, until Avery vibrated quietly in his arms, a delicious full-body shiver.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Oakley chuckled, brushing the feathery dark strands of damp hair back from her forehead, “if you’re this amazing in my car, I’m going to be the luckiest man alive when I get you in my bed.”

“Eh,” Avery stretched, smiled, slipping easily from his lap and into the passenger seat. “Best get a move on then,” she purred, straightening her dress and reclining against the leather once more. “I hear it’s a bit of a drive.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was a precious sound, his snoring. Soft, punctuated buzzing, not exactly unpleasant to rouse to, even if she wasn't ready to be awake.

Avery blinked her eyes open slowly, shielding them from the glare of the mid-morning sun with the back of her hand. She took a moment to bury her face in the pillow beneath her, inhaling deeply through her nose. She spent a heartbeat relishing the scents of linen and sweat and the faint traces of cigarette smoke, then stretched her way through a head-splitting yawn. Finally, she twisted onto her side to face her bedfellow, moving carefully beneath the arm he'd slung across her back.

He was even more beautiful in the light of day, if that was possible. His honey-hued curls were tossed and tousled; she could almost see the patterns her hands had left the night before, her fingers tangled in their silky strands. His long lashes cast tiny shadows on the skin beneath his lids, and the faintest dusting of fledgling stubble lined his upper lip, his chin, the razor-fine angle of his jaw. Spread proud and comfortable across the mattress, the arm not resting on her body was thrown over his head, and his legs were wide asprawl. The rumpled sheet that twisted around her hips was draped over his groin and upper thighs, and she nibbled on her lower lip in grudging admiration as her eyes crawled over the outline of the impressive muscle hidden underneath.

_Mistake. Huge mistake_.

She'd been lost in a dreamy, post-orgasmic haze as he steered the car through the foggy English night. The hand not controlling the wheel had remained on her bare leg, tickling, squeezing gently, until he'd eased the vehicle into the driveway of his modest flat. He'd slid from his seat to round the Audi and open her door, leaning in to snag her shoes before offering her his arm. She curled into his side, shivering against the late winter breeze, and he chuckled into her hair as she bounced along beside him on tiptoe, whining about the chill on her bare feet. He'd swept her off of them as the door swung open, and she clung to him cooperatively enough, giggling into his mouth as he stumbled them towards his bedroom.

All after that was heat and skin and panting breath, the thrust of tongues and the scraping of teeth. Him. Above her. Behind her. Inside her. Hands and fingers and his long, glorious cock. His voice in her ear, hunger in sound.

_"Avery..."_

And her own pleading replies.

_"Oakley..."_

She scrubbed a hand briefly over her face, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan over her head, the slices of darkness the sun cast behind them stretching across the textured stucco.

_Find your dress. Find your shoes. And get the hell out of here._

She scowled at her own inner monologue before rolling from the bed, pressing her hands to the small of her back and arching, shivering a little at the crackle that xylophoned along her spine. She could see a small heap of black silk crumpled on the carpet just in front of the door, but as she crossed towards it, something else caught her eye - the robin's egg cotton of the button-down she'd pushed off his broad shoulders as he backed her towards the bed, his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth.

_He’s the best time I’ve had in a long time. And he is_ obviously _unconcerned that I am still here._

Blowing her bangs off her forehead and jutting her chin in stubborn resolve, she sidestepped the Topshop creation she’d saved a month to afford and picked his shirt up instead, draping it over her arm as she headed into the bathroom.

She avoided looking at her reflection until her bladder was empty and her hands were washed, tugging the garment closed over her breasts and slipping several buttons into place. Her hair tufted wildly from her scalp like ebony feathers in a well-used duster. The elastic that held her left plait in place had snapped at some point during their exertions; the sapphire strands now hung loose, twisting this way and that. Avery combed her fingers through them before unbraiding the fishbone on the right, then scraped her hands over her scalp with a sigh.

“Hopeless.”

She took a moment to inspect the wreckage of her make-up – the raccoon pools of liner and mascara smudged beneath her eyes, the faded and smeared scarlet of her lipstick – before running the tap to warm the water. After a brief amount of splashing and scrubbing, she dabbed her cheeks with a hand towel and leaned onto the sink with a heavy sigh.

“Well, Avery A,” she sniffed softly, “at least you don’t _look_ like a slut anymore…”

The voice inside her head snorted in reply as she gazed ruefully at the toiletries beside the faucet. _Any slut worth her salt carries a toothbrush in her purse,_ she shivered at the draft while squirting a dab of toothpaste onto her finger. _And an extra pair of panties._ She allowed herself a glance at the bin, at the two tied-off condoms discarded among the tissues, as she scrubbed the minty gel over her teeth. _Thank God he was prepared,_ she stared herself down as she rinsed her mouth and spit.

_As if he wouldn’t be…_

Her handsome host was still snoring away on his pillow when she emerged from the loo; giggling, Avery tiptoed to the door, turning the knob with quiet care. She padded down the hallway past one closed door, then another, her biting desire for caffeine only slightly edging out her curious urge to snoop. The flat itself was masculine, nondescript, with dark wood floors and sand-colored walls; she could see well-worn leather sofas arranged around a large flat screen television through the cutout in the kitchen wall. The kitchen itself was modest, a bit untidy, but at least the dishes in the sink had been rinsed before they were abandoned. The real treasure, she found, was the well-kept grind-and-brew perched beside the stove; before long, the sun-dappled room was flooded with the heavenly aroma of warming Arabica.

“Mmm,” the voice in her ear made her jump, the arm that snaked around her waist pulled her back against its owner. “Think I could get a cup of that?”

He’d pulled on a dark blue t-shirt, stepped into a pair of running shorts before coming to look for her. His hair was messy and he was sporting a faint pink blemish in the shape of her mouth just below the corner of his jaw. He smelled of sex and sleep, and he radiated a warmth that left her eyelids feeling pleasantly heavy. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered into her throat; she swallowed them down before turning her gaze up to his.

“Of course you can,” she smiled sweetly, “it’s your coffee, after all.”

Oakley smirked down at her, his thumb stroking over the cotton above her navel in a teasing little arc before he reached past her to pull open a cabinet. The mugs were all oversized, mismatched, emblazoned with various logos and insignias. He plucked two from the collection and set them beside the pot before releasing her and striding over to the fridge. He reached inside as she poured, raised an impressed eyebrow when she shook her head at the carton of flavored creamer. Dropping it back on the shelf, he accepted the cup she offered before folding himself easily into one of the chairs at the table.

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him through the steam rising from her own. “Thank you.”

The two sipped in silence for a moment, Avery crossing one leg in front of the other as she leaned against the counter. Oakley sat in silent observation, his fingers absently spinning his mug on the tabletop as his gaze travelled the terrain his hands and lips had explored just hours earlier. It was surprisingly easy to bear his scrutiny without fidgeting or squirming, and after a second or two, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“I should let you keep that shirt,” he sighed, lifting his coffee back to his lips, “looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

“It’s the boobs.” The words were tumbling from her mouth before she’d even realized they’d taken shape in her brain. She felt her cheeks pink as his expression brightened in amusement, but she lifted her chin a hitch. “They make everything better.”

Oakley nodded through his deep swallow, setting his cup back on the table with an agreeable grin.

“They most certainly do.”

Another stretch of not-quite-awkward silence, and Avery took another swig of 172 degree courage. “I feel like I should tell you,” she paused for a breath, “I don’t usually just get up and start helping myself to what I like in strangers’ houses. It’s just,” she dropped him a coy little smile, “you looked awfully comfortable, and I figured it’d be wise to juice up a bit before my lovely little walk of shame.”

Oakley smirked, a fingertip pirouetting along the rim of his mug. “I looked comfortable, did I?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Avery nodded over another sip. “Sounded comfortable, too.”

He laughed out loud, lifting a hand to ruffle his curls. “Yeah, I’ve been told I snore a time or two,” his eyes met hers, “sorry about that.”

_You most certainly are not. Cocky fucker._

“No big deal,” Avery mused through a yawn. “I probably do, too, though no one’s ever mentioned it before.”

Oakley’s expression remained warmly entertained. “You didn’t last night.”

“Oh.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tapping her thumb against her cup. “Well… good. I guess.” She swallowed another mouthful of the savory brew as he pushed his lanky form up from his chair, crossing to place one hand on the counter on either side of her, looking down at her with undisguised affection.

“Which brings me to point number two,” his voice was low as he closed his hands around her cup, taking it from her and setting it aside. “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, gorgeous.”

“Oh no?” She cocked an eyebrow, meaning to resist the undertow pull in the ocean of his irises, only halfway succeeding.

“Huh-uh,” Oakley murmured, leaning closer, “not one fucking thing.”

His lips were velvety soft as they caressed hers, but even as she parted them for him, her eyes never closed, and their shared stare began to kindle its own slow-burning heat. His hands left the countertop and came to rest on her hips, even as hers still hovered, primly folded, between her breasts.

“Now,” he shifted his stance, his palms flattening against her as he slid them down, his long fingers fanning out over her ass. “Since this is my house, as you’ve just said,” he swayed her a little, the solid heat of his morning interest brushing against her belly, “I hope you won’t mind if I _do_ help myself to what I like.”

Avery leaned back, tucking her chin to her chest, imagining his chagrin when the words left her lips - _Much fun as last night was, Oakley, I actually do mind_ – and his rueful appreciation as he watched her saunter from the room.

“I don’t mind at all.”

His teeth flashed from his grin as his mouth sought hers once more, and as his eyes slid shut, Avery allowed hers to do the same.

The kiss smoldered warm, cooled a bit, then reignited with searing heat as he found her wrists, guided her arms up around his neck. He waited for her fingers to find purchase in the softer curls at the base of his skull before gripping her hips once more, lifting her to sit on the counter with ease. She whimpered at the sensation of cool acrylic against her bare skin and Oakley growled at the sound, guiding her legs around his waist to accommodate a long, slow grind of his body into the cradle of hers. Avery scraped her nails against his scalp as his mouth moved, groping along her jaw to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. He dipped into his pocket, and she laughed out loud at the sound of the foil packet crinkling as he tore it open.

“You really are the prepared fellow this morning, aren’t you?”

His chuckle was breathy, urgent as he freed his cock from the waistband of his shorts, slipping the latex down his shaft in a smooth roll.

“Never hurts to be an optimist,” he quipped, meeting her gaze with rakish pride.

She narrowed her eyes at him, even as he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. “Does anyone ever tell you ‘no’?”

He tipped his head with an impish wink. “All the time.”

“Uh-huh,” Avery nodded skeptically, relenting when he nuzzled into her once more.

“Come here…”

A slight hitch to his stance, a nudge of his hips, and she exhaled a low, longing moan as he filled her, sliding his tongue into her mouth once more. She teased her own against it, closing her eyes and allowing the myriad of sensations swirling through her head and body to wash her out into deeper currents. Her hands skimmed down his back to the hem of his shirt, sneaking underneath it to touch the warmth of his skin, to feel the ripple and roll of muscle and sinew beneath her fingers. His own hands moved over her thighs to her knees, used her legs to pull her more fully into his thrusts. Before long, the two were panting heavily against one another, and the need for cool, dry air forced Avery’s head back on her neck.

“Fuck me,” Oakley groaned at the sight, the delicate lines of her throat and inviting dip of her cleavage on display, perfectly framed by the lapels of his button-down. “You should _definitely_ keep this shirt…” Avery mewled in delight as he buried his face between her breasts, tugged encouragingly on his curls as he nipped and suckled tiny roses into her flesh. “Mmm,” he hummed smugly, tracing the tip of his tongue over one, then another. “You like this.”

It wasn’t a question, but she found herself nodding affirmation anyway. “Yes…”

“Does it feel good, baby?” He used his nose to nudge the fabric aside before catching one nipple carefully between his teeth.

“Mmm-hmm…”

“Oooh, Avery,” he purred, drawing the small, throbbing bud into his mouth and sucking briefly. “ _You_ feel good. You _smell_ good.” He lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, his hips pumping harder and harder between her legs. “You gonna come for me, gorgeous?”

“Oakley,” she stuttered a little, wondering at the fact that she still had enough blood above her waist and enough self-awareness between her ears to blush at the question.

“You are,” he nodded, his self-assured smarm just enough to confuse her as to whether she wanted to kiss him or slap him. “You’re gonna come for me. You’re such a good little girl, Ave, and we are _so_ good at this.” He pulled her tightly against him, his lips brushing hers as he urged her on. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

“Oh… oh, Oakley…” She bit down on her bottom lip, grinding into each punishing buck of his hips.

“That’s it, Avery, that’s it.” His breath hitched in his throat, sending a shivery thrill through her stomach. “A little more… little more…”

She could feel the spiral starting, vines of electric pleasure ready to unravel from the molten heat at her core and twist their blue and silver fingers through every cell in her body. But just as her climax began to blossom, he jerked away, pulling himself free from her arms and her cunt and dropping to his knees in front of her.

“Oh! Oakley! Oh… _Jesus_ …!”

Her head hit the cabinet behind it as his palms forced her thighs wide and his tongue lapped fiercely over her drenched, quivering folds. Her fingers renewed their grip in his hair, harder, but as his lips closed around the engorged pearl of her clit, she wasn’t sure whether to drag him away or push him closer. Her indecision made no difference to him, and after her shock at his abrupt change in tactic subsided, she was headed under again, incoherent little gasps and whimpers spilling from her mouth as she arched into his. Pull and tug, stroke and tease, and every color in the spectrum exploded across her vision as his triumphant rumble chased her into the haze.

“Sweet Avery… you taste every bit as good as you look…”

He was holding her when the brilliant-hued fog parted at last, his hand at the back of her head as his mouth danced wet, fragrant kisses over her parted lips. He smiled at her when her lids fluttered open, tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

“You are so fucking gorgeous when you come.”

Giggling, Avery curled her tongue mischievously over her bottom lip. “If I recall correctly,” she purred, sliding her hand down to stroke his still sheathed erection, “you look pretty hot yourself.”

Oakley swallowed hard, cleared the lump from his throat before grinning once more. “You think so?”

“I think so,” Avery nodded, all wide-eyed innocence. “I wouldn’t mind checking it out again,” she mused, stroking him from root to crown and swirling her thumb over his throbbing head. “You know… just to be sure.”

“Oh yeah?” His forehead fell against hers as he rocked into her touch.

“Mmm-hmm,” Avery hummed against his lips. “After all… you’re still really hard…”

“I am,” he agreed, a reedy edge sneaking into his voice. “Think you could help me with that?”

“Oh, Oakley,” she kissed him sweetly before ducking back, forcing him to meet her eye, “I _know_ I could.”

He exhaled a soundless chortle as he leaned in for another kiss, until a voice from around the corner made them both jump and gasp.

“Think I could pop in there just a tick first? Just for a cuppa and some toast? I mean, it’s a third my kitchen, after all…”

Oakley jerked himself back into his shorts with a hitch of his waistband, turning his back to Avery and tucking her protectively against him. “Jack,” he mumbled quietly over his shoulder. “Cousin. Roommate. Nosy git.” A moment later, a dark haired young man shuffled across the tile, bare chested above well-worn grey sweatpants. “Morning, Jack.”

“Uh-huh,” the boy grumbled as he untwisted the tie on the loaf of bread beside the refrigerator. He plucked two slices from the bag and dropped them unceremoniously into the toaster before reaching into the cabinet for a mug of his own. His gaze swiveled to the couple standing across the room, and his jaw sagged just a little when it came to rest on Avery’s face. “H-hey…”

Oakley’s grin was wolfish arrogance as he tipped his head between the two. “Jack, this is Avery. Avery, Jack.”

“Hi,” Avery squeaked politely before ducking behind his shoulder.

“Hi,” Jack repeated, glancing at his cousin as he reached for the coffee pot. “Nice.”

Oakley rubbed his hands possessively over Avery’s legs as she huddled against his back. “You made good time, I didn’t expect you back ‘til noon. Ipswitch was good, yeah?”

“Oh, it was great, yeah,” Jack enthused as he filled his cup, adding several spoonfuls of sugar from the bowl before fetching the creamer as well. “First set ran late and, like, no one from the club gave two shits about really clearing the floor, so we just rounded ‘bout the bar, ended up milling in and staying for the second as well.”

“Nice,” Oakley nodded as the toaster popped, opening a drawer beside him and sliding a knife across the countertop.

“I hope Rich gets back in one piece,” Jack sniggered as he scraped butter along one slice and then the other. “Made off with this really hot Spanish girl with one of those studs through her eyebrow, looked like she could break him over her knee if the fancy struck.”

Oakley sniffed laughter, leaning back into Avery’s embrace. “Rich could use a good breaking.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half! Madison was there and she told us that last week…” his words trailed off as he shifted his gaze to Avery’s grey-blue eyes, still peeking uncertainly at him over his flatmate’s shoulder. “Wait… sorry… never mind.” He picked up his cup and his toast with a sheepish grin. “You’ve got better things, I’ll just tell you later.” He squared his posture, took a sip from his mug. “It’s nice to meet you, Avery.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Jack,” she smiled. “Maybe different circumstances next time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack nodded, heading for the door and dropping Oakley an apologetic wink as he passed. “Sorry I interrupted your breakfast, mate.”

Oakley laughed as Avery buried her burning cheeks in his back. “We’re good man, we’re good,” he turned to face her, taking her neck in his hands and kissing her playfully. “Next time? Breakfast in bed.”

She rolled her eyes, snickering in spite of herself, allowing him to pull her from the counter and set her on her feet. He refilled their cups before handing hers back, then extended his arm in a clear gesture of “after you.” He followed her down the hallway to his room, closing the door behind them before sprawling across the mattress.

“You know,” he sighed at last, watching her toe her way over to her abandoned dress, “there’s no reason you have to go.” His gaze held her as he took a swallow, tucking one arm behind his head. “Jack and Colin and I are heading out to the lake later on, gonna meet up with a few others. Bonfire, drinks, maybe a little music.” He crossed one long leg over the other. “You could come with.”

“In this?” Avery tittered, picking up the bundle of silk and letting it dangle from her fingers. “In February?” She shook her head at the lascivious waggle of his eyebrows. “No, thank you. Besides,” she sniffed, crossing to prop one knee on the bed beside his ankle, “I should really get home. I have a project due tomorrow that I need to put some finishing touches on…”

“No, you don’t.”

Avery blanched a bit at his flat interruption. “Wh-what?”

“You don’t have any project needs finishing,” he smirked at her above the steam rising from his mug. “You don’t have any papers to write or chapters to read, either.”

“You’re certain of that, are you?” she pulled her lips into a tight moue as he nudged against her leg.

“I am.”

“How,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “can you be so certain?”

“Because it’s Sunday,” he answered plainly, setting his cup aside and leaning forward. “Good girls like you never leave their homework to Sunday. Every ‘I’ dotted and ‘T’ crossed by bedtime Friday night, Saturday morning at the latest.” He nodded his head towards the dress in her hand. “And you were out dancing on Saturday night.”

Avery ran her tongue over her teeth in amused irritation. “You might be smarter than you look,” she muttered at last, easing her way onto the bed and knee-walking up to push him down onto his back. “I’m still not going out to the lake in a club dress at the end of an English winter.”

“All right,” Oakley smirked, the air woofing out of him as she flopped down across his chest. “No lake.” He traced a fingertip over her brow before catching one of her cobalt locks and tugging it gently. “I’ll keep you here… keep you warm…” his words trailed off as her hand slid down his chest, slipped beneath his waistband to find and fondle the lingering hardness between his legs. “Ohh… Avery…”

“Shh,” she dusted a chaste kiss to his cheek as her fingers worked up his rapidly refilling length, sliding the condom off as she moved. “Just relax…”

“Looks like you’re getting more comfortable with that whole notion of helping yourself,” he muttered agreeably, settling into his pillow, one arm winding around her shoulders.

She tickled a fingertip around the leaking slit in the center of his head, relishing the responding hiss of breath from between his teeth. “Well, this helps you, too, wouldn’t you say?”

“Mmmm, without a doubt,” he bowed into her touch, closing his eyes at the way she tightened her grip ever so subtly at the base of his cock before drawing upwards once more. “That’s it… pretty little sculptress… show me what you can do…”

Lifting an arrogant eyebrow of her own, Avery shifted slightly against the mattress, rising up a bit to ease her ministrations. She watched in fascination as she stroked and pulled: the way his eyes would cloud or clear at one sensation or the other, the way his lids would flutter when she found the particularly vulnerable spots just below his crown and between his testes, the way his Adam’s apple would bob soundlessly in his throat when his foreskin retracted to expose his head to her touch, the way his jaw would sag and his lungs would suck in air as she squeezed his arousal carefully into her palm, using it to slicken up his throbbing flesh.

She settled into a smooth, sweet rhythm, gradually increasing the speed of her hand moving up and down his length until he let his head tilt back, his tongue sliding over his lips as he began to roll his hips in tandem. Then, with a saucy grin, she slowed her stroking once more, relaxing the grip of her fingers around him.   It took him a moment to catch up with the change; his face pinched briefly in a wince before his eyes popped open to meet hers.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his tone a mixture of affection and irritation.

“Mmm-hmm,” Avery nodded through a snicker, letting her fingers rub gently over his balls before tugging towards his tip once more, “very much, actually.”

“All right, you rotten little tease,” Oakley snorted, angling his body towards hers and slipping his hand underneath her shirt. “Two can play at that, you know.”

“You mean we weren’t playing before?” Avery purred, leaning into the warmth of his palm as he caressed her breast before sliding her grip around his head in a sensual, spiraling massage.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he thrust reflexively into her touch, his eyes widening in delighted surprise. “Here I was thinking you were such a good little girl…” He buried his face in her neck, growling into her ear as his fingers trailed down her stomach to the damp cleft between her legs. “But you’ve got a naughty streak in you a mile wide, don’t you, gorgeous?”

“Who, me?” she pouted her lip at him, even as her hand moved faster, her thumb swirling his dripping precum around his flushed head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a proper little angel… _ohhhh_ …” she inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed over her still-sensitive clit, rubbing at the little pearl with tender determination.

“Better hang on to that halo, there, Ave. It’s tipping a bit…”

Unable to resist, Avery let her weight melt a bit into the pillow beneath her. Her own rhythm faltered as she spread her thighs, opening to him with a hungry little sigh that blossomed into a disappointed sob when he pulled his hand abruptly away.

“No getting lazy on me, angel,” Oakley smarmed. “Put that talented hand back to work and finish what you started.”

She blanched at his directive, narrowing her eyes and tracing her thumbnail languidly along the thick, pulsing vein that curved along the underside of his shaft. “I think _somebody_ has forgotten that _somebody else_ has already gotten hers this morning while _somebody_ is lying here, still waiting for his.”

He met her glare with an easy grin. “Nope. Somebody is… uh… _acutely_ aware.” His voice dropped an octave, took on a husky timbre that made the muscles in her lower belly and thighs quiver. “But it was _somebody else_ who crawled back into his bed, after all, _somebody else_ who wrapped her strong little fingers around his cock to play.”

Avery’s hand squeezed him reflexively as he moved his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder, her eyes closing as the tip of his nose grazed the thin skin in the hollow of her ear.

“The game isn’t over,” he whispered, his breath a soft, silky tickle. His fingertips dusted over the small patch of manicured curls at the apex of her sex; he chuckled at the responding hitch of her hips and tug from her hand. “And even if _somebody_ were to take a knee on the field,” he paused to suckle sweetly on her earlobe, his rumble of satisfaction vibrating through her brain as she stroked him, “ _somebody else_ just wouldn’t be able to resist going for the goal after all.”

“Jesus,” Avery gasped, moving her fingers over and around him in earnest, whimpering in irritation as his hips met her cadence with graceful ease. “I hate you.”

Oakley’s hand slid back down between her legs, two long fingers pressing up inside her as his thumb tapped firmly against her aching clit, his laughter full of warm affection.

“No… you don’t…”

No arrogance. No condescension. Just a plain and simple statement that made the air hiccup slightly in her lungs… and stirred a cauldron of deeply stubborn determination in her gut. Licking her lips to a sultry shine before curling them in her most sinfully seductive smile, she lounged back against the bed, using his cock to pull him along with her. He glanced up, surprised, and she moved her free hand down to cover his, pressing his touch more fully into her cunt.

“No,” she purred airily, “I don’t.” Rocking her pelvis against his palm, she stroked him again, moaning at the slippery wet sound of skin sliding against skin. “Lucky you.”

“Oh, yes,” Oakley growled in triumph, following her lead and wrapping his fingers around hers so he could guide her next tugging jerk. “Fucking lucky me…”  

Their legs tangled together as their bodies squirmed closer and closer; hot, ragged breaths sent flocks of goosebumps skittering over arms and shoulders as teeth nipped and tongues tasted. Before long, Avery could feel the halting stutter creeping into his once cool and calculated rhythm, could hear the harsher edge that punctuated each of his staccato grunts. Resisting the direction of his grip over hers, she wriggled against him, whining in her throat.

“Oakley?”

He lifted his head, a grin of feline expectation stretching across his handsome, sweat-glistened features. Avery smirked, then took great pleasure in watching as his jaw sagged, his eyes blowing wide and black as she pulled his hand from between her legs, lifted it to her parted lips, and drew his fingers between them, swirling her tongue around each digit before sucking firmly.

“Avery… oh, fuck… oh… _fuck_ …”

She twisted carefully as she pulled, quicker, harder, and his body bowed in a taut, quivering arch, his girth spasming in her palm as he spilled, warm and sticky, over her hand. His fingers in her mouth dragged her to him and he kissed her, muttering chagrined curses into her grin as she milked every drop she could from him while he softened in her grasp.

“Jesus… baby…” He flopped boneless to his back, laughing at the victorious quirk of her brow, the self-satisfied lilt in her sigh. “You win, okay, gorgeous? You fucking win.”

“Yeah, yeah” she sniffed, curling against his side and tucking her head beneath his chin. “I win. Just don’t think I don’t know that _that’s_ as much a part of the game as anything else.” She closed her eyes, yawned, shivered at the sensation of his fingers curling in her hair.

“Clever Avery,” he hummed, nuzzling against her forehead. “Thanks for coming over to play…”


End file.
